


Cut the loveless tongue

by Ayerea



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anxiety, Everyone owns a dog, Excessive amounts of fluff, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Inaccurate portrayal of how coffee machines work, Loras & Theon are disaster gays, Minor Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth, Multi, No Incest, Past Abuse, Past Ramsay Bolton/Theon Greyjoy, Recovery, Renly is tired, Suicidal Thoughts, Yes this is here for exactly two characters, You Know Who, with minimal hurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-14
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2020-03-05 12:45:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18828931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ayerea/pseuds/Ayerea
Summary: "forgivethe softnessin your bones"- N. L. Shompole"Renly, kill me.""It can't be that bad.""You don't understand. He chuckles like chocolate. Do you hear what I'm saying? And I just stood there. Staring. Like a useless gay, Renly. I stood there like a Loras.""Okay, I'm taking offence to that."





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be sad and dark with a lot of hurt and a pinch of comfort. I don’t know when I lost control of this trainwreck but it happened.
> 
> I desperately need someone with french knowledge to tell me if Mémé actually means grandmother because I know two people who take French and neither could confirm my googling skills so now I'm afraid  
> Edit: I have been informed by the very helpful user Levit that Mémé does indeed mean grandmother, it's just not used very often

look it in the eyes / this is how to squeeze the fear / out of anything / out of everything  
\- N. L. Shompole

 

There had been a finality in the way the door swung shut seven days ago. Theon does not know this until later. It was no different from all the other times Ramsay left, there had been no goodbye, because goodbyes and greetings are for people, it was expected of Theon to welcome Ramsay home and see him off, but Ramsay never did the same.  
The sound of the lock clicking into place had been the same too. Nothing had seemed wrong.  
Ramsay comes and goes as it pleases him, this is his home and he has the right to do so. This is not true for Theon. The house with it's four rooms and many shadows is at best a cage, a golden cage without locked doors. Not that it matters. Theon knows the rules, he could be bound with a spider's thread for all the difference it would make. He would not leave. Couldn't leave, really. No, no. Ramsay would be displeased and that would never, in any of the many worlds, bring him any good.  
But Ramsay has not returned, has been gone for a week now. There is no more bread in the basket sitting innocently on the kitchen counter, like it doesn't know how it's dooming him to starve. There is meat in the fridge and milk and eggs and cheese, probably, but none of that is for him to even look at, so Theon has not opened the fridge. Even if it is in there, he is not allowed to eat from it. Most of it must be spoiled by now anyway. Rotting away in a cold prison with no light.  
Much like Theon.

He kneels before the front door on the cold hard floor. He has been sitting before the door for twenty minutes now. A clock ticks away time over sofa, the one he never sits on, the one in the living room.  
_Tick._  
_Tick._  
_Tick._  
Another lifetime of time stolen from him.  
It is quiet, more often than not this is the norm. He speaks when spoken to, not spoken at, there is a difference he learned, but now there is no one to speak to him, so Theon stays silent. None of the neighbours would guess that there is a war going on inside the house. Then again, they are the kind of neighbours who want no trouble and wouldn't interfere if they knew. Afterall Ramsay likes Theon quiet only until punishment starts and some things at some point can only be willful ignorance at best and apathy at worst. Though calling it ‘at best’ seems horrible distasteful when it comes to matters like these.  
There is the choice of staying in the house, waiting until Ramsay returns, whenever he so desires that to be, or walking out on the street and getting himself food. That would mean breaking the rules however. There aren't many of them (lie) and all of them are easy to follow (lie).  
Ramsay would be so angry with him if he left. What is he worth if he can't even obey something so simple.  
“You're so stupid, Theon,” he would say and Theon would spend another night without dinner under the window, if he is lucky Ramsay would leave it shut, if not, well, if Theon repents maybe he would give him a blanket.  
Theon kneels and tries to choose, but ultimately he doesn't leave. It's been so long since he made his own decisions, maybe he forgot how to.

Theon walks along an empty street in a jacket and shoes that aren't his, pocket filled with money that isn't his either. Overhead the sky is grey. Mist and clouds making the morning colder than it really needs to be.  
He has lived in this city all his life, lived in the house for years, but the street is as unknown to him as another country would be. He was out here only once before, when Ramsay first moved Theon in with him, since then he's only ever been in Ramsay's home.

Theon hasn't eaten, which is the reason he is out on the streets in the cold in the first place. See, there was an apple he found earlier this morning. Fruit is as forbidden as the meat and the milk in the fridge Theon doesn't touch. He could have eaten that instead of leaving the house, but then he would have had to go out later to buy food anyway. And he would have eaten the apple on top of that. Breaking one rule seems better than breaking two, though he would rather have Ramsay come back, so he didn't have to break either.  
Theon hasn’t eaten and the cafe on the corner looks empty and inviting. 

Letters, that were already stacked high, stack ever higher. They are all for Ramsay and Theon reads none of them. They look important and angry.

They cut the power first.  
Theon has walked the now empty shell of a house often enough to know where everything is by heart, he knows the sofa is by the wall and the table is exactly a meter in front of it. Not that it matters. He's not allowed on the furniture anyway. 

Theon likes water, maybe that is the reason the bathtub is off-limits and the shower is only allowed once a week. He isn't allowed warm water either, but now the water raining down on his body seems even colder than normal. Shaking and with chattering teeth he exits the shower after two minutes. He is allowed five.  
Theon makes an exception to the furniture rule. Sleeping underneath the window seems so cruel when the house is so unbelievable cold already. It's not just because Theon is the only one here. There is an empty, unused bed waiting in the bedroom. He isn't really permitted there either, not unless Ramsay invites him inside, which is never a good sign and means punishment, though it isn't meant as a punishment.  
It is better than freezing to death though.  
Ramsay’s scent still clings to the sheets and maybe that is part of the reason he decides to sleep here too. Theon pulls the pillow closer. 

Ramsay isn't coming back. It hits him with the force of a derailed train, right there when he is getting ready to get breakfast. There is no one coming back to him, no one for him to wait for.  
He is well and truly abandoned. 

He goes to the same cafe everyday for breakfast, which is the only meal he has nowadays. He arrives at the same time, early in the morning when there is no one else but him, and he leaves the moment other guests arrive. The old lady who owns the place never asks questions, which is nice, and the only interaction they have is when she confirms his order, which is the same every time and at this point she remembers him.  
“Two bread rolls with butter and a coffee, no milk, no sugar,” she says and Theon, who spend the whole way over here counting and recounting his money, Ramsay's money, shakes his head.  
“Just coffee today,” he says softly. Maybe it’s the way he says it that prompts her to look up at him sharply, something old and knowing in her eyes, or maybe it’s the way he comes in everyday as early as possible more dirt than skin and leaves as soon as other customers fill in. Maybe it’s the absolute hopelessness he projects.  
Theon sits down at the same lonely table to the side and stares into the middle distance. Ramsay is still gone and will remain so. He can’t stay in the house, it isn’t his and at some point someone is going to investigate what happened to the owner of the house and Theon has no explanation he can give. What little cash Ramsay had left behind is gone now. Theon has no job and only the little education that came before he met Ramsay and his life crumbled around him. Realistically what can he do? He’s been a ghost for so long he has only a vague idea of how the real world works.  
Theon is about to have a breakdown in the quiet and otherwise empty cafe. He has no idea what he is going to do about tomorrow, which is a sentiment he’s had since he woke up alone in the house, but until now there has always been something to wait for.  
He goes over what little he still knows about the city. There's the bridge by the river, where he spend so much time as a child just looking at the water. He is relatively sure he can find the place, and isn’t it a special kind of pathetic that he doesn’t even know the way around his hometown anymore? And if he can’t find it immediately, what does it matter? He has all the time in the world after today.  
He thinks about the river and the water and the current and how absolutely freezing it must be in this time of year, when the old cafe owner comes over with his coffee.  
“You know,” she says and Theon is pulled from his thoughts. “It gets busy around here sometimes.”  
And Theon, who had his last real conversation around god knows how long ago, has no idea what she wants from him.  
“Okay?” He says and cradles the hot cup. She sighs, and from that alone it's easy to tell that she is a mother and maybe even a grandmother. Some tones are reserved solely for people who raised children.  
“I could use some help around here and there are some unused rooms in the back.” 

So somehow Theon becomes a barista, gains steady income and doesn’t have to return to the house that isn’t his. He stops thinking about the river, which is a calming addition, at least Olenna says so.

“Come on, don’t be like that,” Theon says. “You know I love you.” Maybe the soft encouragement and pleading does the trick, because the not-so-good-sounding grinding stops suddenly and the coffee machine starts doing what coffee machines are supposed to do.  
“See, you’re still perfect,” he says triumphant. Olenna has no idea what she’s saying when she threatens to get a more modern machine. Theon shakes his head, coos at his most troublesome child and turns to get the counter in order, when he comes face to face with a stranger. A young man, probably Theon’s age, with curly hair and a kind face, a kind face that looks bewildered at this exact moment.  
“We’re closed,” Theon says slowly, he glances at the sign on the door. The beautiful cursive ‘Open’ is facing him, so this shouldn’t be new information to the stranger. Also, Theon is pretty sure he didn’t unlock the door yet, which is equally confusing.  
“Oh. Yeah, I know,” the man says and Theon knows that he knows, which doesn’t explain anything, so now there’s a really awkward silence, where they’re just staring.  
“Oh, oh, yeah, I’m Loras,” the stranger says and holds up a small silver object. “I, uhm, have a key?” Which sounds more like a question than a statement.  
“Okay?” Theon says, which is also more question than statement.  
This is weird. He wants to die. Loras is becoming increasingly more red in the face and generally this whole situation is not something Theon knows how to deal with. What is even happening?  
“I’m looking for Olenna,” Loras says then and hey, this is something Theon can help with.  
“She’s on the phone.” Because there was a delivery Theon was supposed to get earlier, but the delivery man had never shown up, which Theon had no idea how to handle. The thought that he’d done something wrong and not knowing how to explain to Olenna had send him spiralling into panic hard and fast. Which is why Olenna had found him 15 minutes later sitting against the wall mid panic attack. Apparently Theon hadn’t done anything wrong because Olenna had been chewing out who ever is on the other side of that phone for 20 minutes now.  
“She might take a while, do you want a coffee while you wait?” He asks. Loras nods.  
It hits Theon when he is filling Loras’ cup that, hey, isn’t Loras the name of Olenna’s grandson, and someone that makes the whole situation even more awkward. 

The sun is barely over the horizon when Theon crawls out of bed to go for a walk. It's that time of day, read around 4 o'clock, where the world is a bizarre and empty thing. Nothing seems real and you feel more like you're dreaming than actually awake.  
He can't sleep and now that he can go outside without having to fear punishment laying in bed becomes too unproductive for him. He feels restless. Familiarizing himself with the neighbourhood is better than just existing in the small bedroom in the back.  
The walk is not what's important, though he is gone for hours and found some small shops he might visit later, when they are actually open. No, the point is that he comes back to the cafe and is welcomed by the chime of a bell. The thing is 'Golden Rose' doesn't have a bell. Olenna has this sixth sense for when customers come in. Theon turns around and, sure enough, a gold bell hangs over the door to ring whenever it is opened.  
"Welcome back," Olenna greets him, a small but nonetheless warm smile on her face.  
"Good morning," Theon says. "So, what's this?" He asks motioning at the door.  
Olenna arranges the freshly baked muffins in the glass cabinet thingy, not looking up from her task.  
"It's for you. I noticed you get absorbed in other tasks when there's no customers. Now you have a warning system. No need to let people wait unnecessarily."  
And okay, maybe Theon does like to keep busy when it gets slow and maybe he isn't the biggest fan of standing with his back to the door, knowing someone could come in anytime and he wouldn't notice and maybe he does startle when he turns around only to come face to face with a customer suddenly. Maybe that happens, and if it does happen, well, Olenna noticed. So she bought a bell. For him.  
Theon wrings his hands, eyes on his shoes.  
"Thank you," he says.  


“Two seconds!” Theon calls when he hears the doorbell chime. They're still closed, he hasn't unlocked the door yet, so it's either Loras or Margaery and they can wait for a moment. Theon has more important things to do.  
“Come on sweetheart, you have never let me down, don't start now.”  
Like reviving the coffee machine. There has never been smoke coming out of it before, but Theon is adamant that it is not going to die on him now.  
“No, no, no, baby, babe.”  
“Is this normal?” There's a voice he doesn't recognise, but he has no time for that now. His child is dying.  
“Yes. Just let him finish,” someone else says and hey, he recognises Loras, so this is not a complete embarrassment. Just half of one.  
The coffee maker makes a horrible screeching sound.  
“Don’t talk to me like that,” Theon says in his ‘I am terribly disappointed’-voice. There’s another puff of smoke and then everything is working just fine like it is supposed to.  
“That’s what I thought.” And with that he turns back to the door, where Loras is standing with another man.  
“What can I help you with?” Theon asks. “If you’re looking for Olenna, she’s not here today.”  
Loras blinks. His surprise is obvious and Theon can’t blame him for that. Olenna literally lives upstairs and the cafe is her all and everything, which is probably why she threatened Theon bodily harm if he managed to burn it down while she is away. He is okay sure that that was directed mostly at the coffee machine, which is, all things considered, fair.  
“Where is she?” Loras asks. Theon shrugs.  
“Out. Meeting with a friend or something, I didn’t really ask,” he answers. “Oh, okay. That’s fine, I actually wanted to talk to you,” Loras says. And uff, that doesn't sound too great? Theon licks his lips and taps his finger on his thigh, a brittle half smile half grimace on his face.  
“So we're moving apartments and our new place is in no condition to be slept in and Margaery doesn't have enough space for both of us and Mémé always said that we could use the rooms in the back if we needed them, but that was before you moved in. So I wanted to ask you, if it's okay, if we move in to one of the spare bedrooms for a little while, pretty please?”  
Loras takes like one breath saying all that and it’s so fast Theon takes a second before he understands any of it. Even then he only gets the bare gist of it.  
“Sure,” he says when he finally does manage to untangle that ball of conversation. It’s not like he can sleep in all bedrooms at once, there’s three, so there’s enough to go around. 

Famous last words. Loras, the traitor, forgot to mention that Renly is maybe, just maybe, a little bit more than a friend and there are things Theon doesn’t need to know. For example how Loras sounds mid orgasm or the many, many ways one can say the name Renly, none of them particularly pleasant for Theon, or that Loras apparently switches to french when they’ve been, you know, going at it for a while.  
So that’s the reason he storms into the front room in the early morning where Olenna, Margaery, Loras and Renly are already enjoying their breakfast.  
“You didn't tell me he's your boyfriend! If I had known that, I wouldn't have given you that bedroom!” Theon says. Half shouts. Same, same. There's a moment where all is silent, Loras looks taken aback and Margaery looks ready to murder, all while Olenna calmly drinks her coffee, like this is a normal breakfast conversation.  
“Is there a problem with that?” Margaery asks sweetly. Her eyes don’t look sweet, they look out for blood. Theon turns to her.  
“Yes! Do you know how thin those walls are? I had like two hours of sleep. I heard things, Margaery, they’re so loud I can never hear french again without wanting to die.”  
Which makes her look less ready for murder and more- She’s laughing at him. Yeah. Laugh it off, you’re not the one suffering.  
“You two are drinking your coffee, eating your breakfast and then you’re moving to the other bedroom. The one that isn’t right beside mine, because god help me if you don’t, someone is going to die.” 

Theon wakes up shaking and uncomfortable close to vomiting all over the good blankets. He can't remember the dream, not clearly. It's better that way, better than the alternative certainly, but he still wants to curl up and never sleep again. There's cold blue eyes and pain, pain, pain.  
The door opens sharply, too sudden for Theon, who is awake, but still captured by the nightmare. He flinches away. He isn't sure what he expects, who he expects (lie, he knows, he just doesn't want to think about it), but a sleepy Renly followed by an equally sleepy Loras is not it.  
The former weakly pulls at Theon's arm until he moves away from the bed, which prompts Loras to collect some of Theon's softest blankets. It's- It's a lot of blankets, no judgement, okay? Renly is still pulling on his arm, but Theon isn't moving. He's still bewildered.  
“Move peasant,” Renly says and pulls harder. Theon trips, but doesn't fall. Then he is being herded to their room instead.  
“What are you doing?” He asks as he stumbles along.  
“Sleepover,” Loras says, it's muffled because of all the blankets he is carrying, but Theon hears him just fine, he just doesn't understand.  
“You think we would try to squeeze into your bed? You’re crazy, it’s tiny,” Renly ads. That's not really what Theon meant, but he also knows better than to question or argue what the hell is going on, because the two of them together are a powerhouse.  
Renly kind of throw pushes him on to the bed, before he half falls on to the bed himself. Loras puts the blankets down, haphazardly spreading them around, and follows suit. What comes next is some kind of platonic three people spooning cuddling hybrid thing, seasoned with lots of pillows and an absurd amount of blankets. It's soft and warm and nothing like his place under the window.  
Theon sleeps. 

They’re watching a movie, somehow managing to fit four people on to a couch that is barely meant for two. Renly has his legs thrown over the armrest, his butt squished between said armrest and Loras. Which is a crime against humanity. It’s a very nice butt. Loras looks completely comfortable, which is a miracle, because Theon can feel his spine break just looking at him. His legs are dangling over the edge of the couch, Renly’s head in his lap, and then he has his torso bend so he can have his head in Theon’s lap. It’s not really working out for him, because Maragery has decided, that’s where her feet are going to be. So actually Renly and Theon are watching a movie, while Loras and Margaery are fighting the Third World War across Theon’s thighs.  
“It’s your turn to take care of the children,” Renly says without looking away from the screen, the screen where Tom Hiddleston and Idris Elba are currently in leather and armor respectively, so that’s entirely fair.  
“Sure, I provide the steady income and I’m supposed to take care of the children, why are we still together,” Theon says sarcastically and does absolutely nothing to stop Margaery and Loras’ kicking and hitting.  
“You’re always at work, it’s like you don’t love me anymore,” Renly says. “Also the sex is great, that’s why.”  
“Okay, you literally live at my work, so fuck off.” He has some other sarcastic remark to say about the sex, but Loras’ flat hand hits him against the chest, so Theon pushes him off the couch, which means Renly loses his balance and lands half on top of him.  
“That’s it, we’re all scooting up and you,” Theon points at Margaery, “are going to sit with Renly.”  
So they all fumble around each other, until Theon is leaning against one armrest and everything from there is a human lap chain, with Loras’ head on Theon’s lap and Renly squishing one of Loras’ legs against the backrest, the other leg dangling over the edge and Renly somewhere between, his head on Loras’ chest. Margaery is doing the same to Renly, with her feet hanging over the other armrest. Finally there is peace on Theon’s thighs. 

Somewhere into the second movie Theon starts scratching Loras’ scalp and Loras starts to, honest to god, purr. It’s fascinating. Theon has never heard such a noise from human vocal cords before.  
“Nuh, don’t stahp,” Loras whines when Theon stills for just a second. “Oh my god, yes, I love you,” he says when Theon starts again. There’s a short pause and then:  
“No homo,” Loras adds. Theon scoffs.  
“No, you’re full homo, or have you forgotten? Do you need help to remember?”  
“Well, how exactly do you plan on reminding me of how homo I am?” Loras asks.  
“Maybe i should start throwing glitter at you every morning. Unless you need something more hands on,” Theon answers. Then stops and thinks about the words that just came out of his mouth.  
“Okay, that’s it, were stopping,” he says.  
“Aww,” Loras whines. Theon rolls his eyes.  
“Go flirt with your boyfriend,” he says. Said boyfriend is braiding Margaery’s hair right now, it’s looking amazing so far and Theon is low-key jealous that his hair isn’t long enough.  
“Renly you’re really pretty,” Loras says.  
“Oh, I see how it is, I’m only your second flirting choice. You only want me for the sex, that’s it. No one loves me anymore,” Renly says.  
“Well, it is really good sex,” Loras says. Which prompts Margaery into turning around to suffocate Renly via hugging.  
“Shush, I love you, you amazing little diva.”  
“You ruined the braid. But do keep telling me how great I am,” he says. So Margaery starts listing off all the wonderful things about Renly. Apparently Loras doesn’t like to be outdone, because he starts sucking love marks into Renly’s neck.  
“Not now, darling, your sister and I are making wedding plans.”  
Loras whines again and looks at Theon, there are tears in his eyes, tears which Theon knows for sure are fake. He knows this because A) Loras is a crybaby and B) he is also an ugly crier. His eyes aren't red and swollen and there is no snot currently being blown into Theon's clothes. Ergo, fake tears.  
“Theon, love me.” Loras’ lips are actually quivering. Theon sighs, he’s surrounded by drama queens.  
“There, there,” he says while patting Loras’ face with his whole hand. “If Renly marries Margaery we will crash the wedding and get married instead.” 

Margaery has a girlfriend and Theon is Bitter, because he’s the only one who hasn’t met her yet. But then he does meet her and he wouldn’t change how for the world.  
It starts with a young woman and teenager walking in and sitting down at one of the tables for six people. Theon is having an internal bitch fit. They have tables for two! Is it so hard to think about other customers? They’re talking and the tidbit of conversation he overhears goes as follows:  
“You know what Sansa, you can suck my imaginary cock,” the teenage girl says.  
“That’s incest.”  
“Not if it’s imaginary.”  
“I still wouldn’t ‘suck your imaginary cock’. I’m gay.”  
And Theon can’t stop the snort from escaping. The redhead turns to him.  
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” She sounds really scandalized, which isn’t helping Theon, who is about to have a laughing fit. His laughter is joined by the younger girl. Sansa looks mortified.  
“Is everything okay?” Margaery asks as she comes from the kitchen. The noise must have attracted her. She takes one look at the scene, rolls her eyes and walks over to Sansa with long strides, pulling her into a kiss.  
Theon stops laughing. So does the girl. It’s silent except for the typical face sucking noises. And that’s how Theon meets Margaery’s girlfriend and bonds with Arya over being disgusted by the PDA. 

Theon hears the bell which signals that they have customers, but he can see Sansa’s red hair out of the corner of his eyes and watching Margaery dealing with the coffee maker is too amusing to actually turn around to greet her.  
“Theon, come do your magic, ‘cause I think I finally killed Sally.” Sally being the coffee machine. Theon slides of the counter and walks over, so Margaery can deal with her girlfriend.  
“Oh, sweetheart, what has she done to you?” He softly shakes the whole thing. Sally screeches.  
“You don’t like that much ground coffee, shush, I know, I know.” He takes one large spoon of the powder out.  
“See, all better,” he says and the coffee machine starts working again.  
“I don’t know how you do it, that thing should have stopped working ages ago. It did stop working ages ago, except for you. You are literally the only one who can make coffee with that thing,” Margaery says. Theon pats Sally on the lid.  
“You’re just jealous that she likes me better than you,” he says and turns around. Now, everyone he knows has met him while he was babying his daughter, except Sansa and Olenna, but they have seen him do it too, so objectively this situation should not be embarrassing anymore. The thing is, the man that is standing beside Sansa, one of her brothers probably, is extremely handsome. Theon’s brain blue screens for a second.  
Words? What are words? Who needs words?  
"Hello, my name is Robb, I'm Sansa's brother," he says and chuckles. It sounds like chocolate. Fucking chocolate. Theon can't even, oh god, how are people allowed to be so pretty?  
"Fucking unfair," Theon softly says.  
"Sorry?"  
Margaery laughs.  
"Ignore him, he's currently TGTF," she says. Sansa giggles, while Robb just nods. He obviously has no idea what TGTF means, which Theon is very grateful for, and he will get back at Margaery for that later. He will. The exact moment he no longer is Too Gay To Function and his brain starts working again. 

"Renly, kill me," Theon says and throws himself across Renly's lap.  
"It can't be that bad," Renly says and moves his book slightly so Theon isn't in the way anymore. He doesn’t even look up at all.  
"You don't understand. He chuckles like chocolate. Do you hear what I'm saying? And I just stood there. Staring. Like a useless gay, Renly. I stood there like a Loras." "Okay, I'm taking offence to that," Loras says. Renly shoots him a look.  
"Your first words to me were, and I quote: 'It shouldn't be physically possible to be that beautiful. You look like cinnamon muffins taste, oh my god.' And then you ignored me for a week."  
"Point."  
"People, I'm having a crisis here. You can be disgusting later. I'm in need of help. He looks like he reads Shakespeare and loves everything fluffy and soft, what do I do?"  
"Get him a book and a blanket. Better yet, get him a dog and name it Hamlet.”  
"Or, and I'm just putting this out there, ask him on a date like normal people." 

“Good morning,” Margaery greets him when he comes back from his morning walk. She is fiddling with the coffee machine, except when Theon comes closer he can see it's decidedly not Sally. For some reason, a reason he doesn't quite understand himself, it makes him tense up. A nervous energy curls in his stomach and his fingers are twitching.  
“Are we throwing Sally out?” He asks. His voice trembles. He needs her to tell him no, before the small shake turns into an earthquake way up the scale.  
“I know she's a little bit broken and difficult, but she's still doing her best,” he argues. That should be enough, shouldn’t it? It’s not like she isn’t working at all. He sounds upset to his own ears. He doesn't know why the thought of throwing her away upsets him as much as it does, it’s a coffee machine, nothing more. Somehow that fact doesn’t make him feel better. There’s still a rock resting somewhere around his belly.  
“No, No Theon, honey no. We’re not getting rid of Sally,” Margaery mollifies. Somehow it occurs to him that they’re talking about more than just Sally.  
“This one is just for us peasant who can’t do miracles,” she adds. Theon lets out a choked laugh and Margaery hugs him. “She’s a little bitch who plays favourites, but that doesn’t mean we’ll just throw her out, okay?”  
“Okay.” 

Theon asks Robb on a date. Okay, that’s a lie. And Robb says yes. Almost. Kind of. It goes like this:  
He had decided enough is enough, read Renly got sick of the pining. So Theon asked Sansa to bring Robb with her the next time she came over and Sansa, bless her unicorn soul, had done exactly that. The problem is that Theon is definitely and absolutely Too Gay To Function. So what does he do, when he is once again confronted with how fucking pretty Robb is? Stutters. And goes red. It clashes with his hair. He is just generally a gay mess.  
There's silence. Really, really awkward silence. For multiple minutes. And staring, god, so much staring.  
“Oh god, I can’t watch this go on any longer,” Margaery says, like she’s the one suffering, the traitor. “Robb, Theon would like to go out with you, like on a real date.”  
And Robb goes beet red too, so that’s nice. He smiles shyly. Theon might die. But Robb doesn’t answer! He just looks- Oh, yeah, okay. He looks starstruck.  
“This is horrible, you’re both terrible,” Sansa says with a laugh. “Theon, Robb would very much like to go on a date.”  
And then they’re both smiling like the silly boys they are.  
“We’re so great,” Margaery says to Sansa.  
“Fuck off,” Theon says, but he’s grinning, so there’s that. 

Their first date is upstairs in Olenna's kitchen, or rather everyone's kitchen, because she's out playing card games with a friend, it sounds more like an excuse to gossip, but who is Theon to judge, and the others are all on their own dates. Actually the plan was to do this at Robb's house but siblings happened. Enough said.  
They're making spaghetti, the only reason Theon agreed to this is because spaghetti are easy. He's a baker not a cook. Some days he's scared his cereal is going to burst into flames, that's how bad of a cook he is. Then Robb brought more stuff than Theon knows is needed for spaghetti, but no noodles. Red flag. Alarms sounding everywhere. Screaming sirens. Blinking lights.  
“It's not as hard as you think it is,” Robb says with a laugh. Theon could write poetry about that laugh. It could make flowers bloom, okay?  
“I think you are underestimating my ability to burn down the house and or stabbing you and or me,” Theon says. His face is burning.  
“Well then it is my sworn duty to walk you through the process of making noodles.” And ohmygodfuckingshit Robb takes his _hand_. Theon might _cry_. He's so pretty and soft and ugh. This is so bad. In a really good way. 

He is about to take a customer’s order, when he sees someone with black hair and pale skin out on the street out of his peripheral vision. He stops mid-sentence and freezes, doesn’t even notice that his hands are shaking, until the woman carefully takes the pen and paper from him, while the man stands up and softly pushes Theon into his chair.  
The man keeps talking calmingly at him until the shaking subsides and Theon can breathe again.  
“Hey, Sally is being a diva again, can you come help?” Margaery asks softly and guides him back to the counter, her hand is a reassuring warmth on his shoulder. 

He is sure that whoever he saw was not Ramsay, but there’s a little voice in his head going ‘but what if’. He can't sleep. There are a lot of 'but what if' situations, one worse than the other, that Theon can think of. At this point Loras and Renly aren't even letting him go to sleep in his own room anymore, it's pointless if he's just going to wake them up anyway. The problem is their interventions aren't effective anymore, so he keeps waking them up anyway. Theon has no idea what to do.  
“You’re not annoying us and you’re not being difficult, okay? This is not your fault,” Renly says, something fierce and protective in his eyes.  
“It’s not a problem,” Loras says softly.  
But it is to Theon. He keeps waking them up, so now there’s three people not getting enough sleep, and he can’t even go back to his own room, because they can still hear him. And this- this phase isn’t limited to his nightlife. It’s interfering with his daily routines too. He’s paranoid and jumpy and everything makes him flinch. Yesterday getting into the shower was an adventure of shaky unsteady limbs and wet slippery tiles. Looking at the temperature dial had him close to vomiting. He turned it down all the way with a trembling hand, coming out of the shower shaking even more than before. His blue lips had Margaery so worried she made him tea and he drank it without argument. He doesn't even like tea.  
Theon doesn’t feel safe in his own home and he’s so, so angry about that. 

“Don’t you dare, Sally, the universe is already ganging up on me,” he says indignant. Sally doesn’t answer, except for another little puff of smoke.  
“Sally, darling, come on, make me proud,” he pleads and finally the coffee machine starts pumping water.  
“Good girl.”  
There’s a cough. Theon whirls around, ready to maybe stab someone. He forgot that the bell broke. Which really hasn't helped with his new found paranoia. Olenna ordered a new one the moment it happened, but it hasn't arrived yet. There had been a long scolding over the phone about that just two days ago, but with everything happening this week the bell had not been a priority of his.  
On the other side of the counter is the pair from the day his horrible no good week started, the blonde man and tall woman who witnessed his little breakdown. Which is mortifying. Usually he’d make Margaery deal with this, but she is upstairs and he has worried her and the others enough, so he can’t. He just can’t.  
“Oh, uhm, sorry about that, she needs a little love sometimes,” he says. Suddenly it sounds stupid.  
“It’s fine, our vacuum cleaner is the same way,” the woman says.  
“I swear that thing has a life of its own and that life consists solely of hating me,” the man says with a smirk. It makes Theon smile a little.  
“So, what can I do for you two?”  
“Two blueberry muffins and two cups of coffee, one with milk and sugar.”  
He rings them up and places the muffins on plates.  
“Here you go, the coffee is almost ready,” he says after he places the plates down. 

All in all it isn't as embarrassing as he thought it would be. They're warm and very friendly, leaving him mostly alone as he cleans some things, only interrupting him when they order two more muffins, even then they wait patiently for him to turn around and notice them, waving away his apologies. And when the male pulls him to the side, to tell him the two of them live in the building beside the Golden Rose, they're both cops and he's ex military, well, the phone number that's in his pocket the rest of the day makes him feel a lot better. Not perfect, but better.


	2. II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this while being sick, so there is a lot of honest feelings in it. Especially about the soup. Except I didn’t have someone nice and pretty to save me from the atrocity that is instant soup. No, I’m not bitter.

& if you want it  
there will be hope  
bright and ravenous  
but only if you want it,  
_only if you want it._  
\- N. L. Shompole 

 

It's only their second date and Theon has to cancel. It is The Worst Thing. He went to bed with the beginnings of a sore throat and wakes up with the feeling of a boulder on his chest. Theon takes a shallow breath, which turns into a coughing fit. Scratch boulder and make that Mount fucking Everest.  
Of course he calls Robb immediately, no need for him to come over when Theon is fit for only two things, sleeping and infecting everyone around him.  
“Theon?” Robb’s voice is muffled and sleepy. Shit. Theon hasn't even looked at the clock. He does now.  
“Oh my god, I'm so sorry, I did not mean to call you at butt fuck in the morning,” he apologises. While sounding like squidward's long lost brother. Nice.  
“You sound horrible.” Robb is more awake now.  
“Why thank you.” Feeling like he is going to die at any moment does not stop his sarcasm. “That's why I wanted to cancel for today.”  
“That's fine, make sure you feel better, okay? Take care of yourself.”  
Robb is so perfect it's unreal. He isn't even mad at the rough wake up call at three in the morning. 

There is one thing to say about a sick Theon and one thing only:  
He turns into the whiniest whining bitch to ever whine. 

“I'm dying,” he says. He would bury his face in the pillows, but his airways are restricted as it is and suffocation is not the way to go. “Bring me pen and paper, let me write my will before it is too late.”  
“You're a dramatic whore,” Loras says, but he hands Theon a cup of soup, so his argument is invalid. Theon frowns down at the poor imitation of tomato soup. This thing has never seen a tomato in all it's pitiful existence.  
“You look like shit,” Renly says, no ounce of pity in his good looking body.  
“Don't be a dick, I will sneeze on you.”  
Renly grimaces. “Please don't.”  
Theon almost laughs, but his body doesn't get the memo, so he nearly chokes from his coughing instead.  
“This is bullshit,” Theon says once he is no longer dying. “I'm selling my lungs, I don't want them anymore.”  
“Neither does anyone else, so no sneezing on my boyfriend,” Loras says. Theon might just do it anyway out of spite if nothing else. 

On the bedside table Theon is currently building a tissue castle, an empire of disgusting, infected snot paper. Ugh. Swallowing hurts, breathing is suddenly unfairly hard and he needs to cough, but he can't because his limbs are heavy and he's tired and moving is too much trouble. And the headache! All in all Theon is miserable.

“I’m disgusting,” Theon whines after blowing his nose for the third time in a minute. It’s wild. Renly pauses in the doorway, which makes Loras almost run in to him. They brought him more tissue paper because they can be nice sometimes.  
“Right now or in general? Because yes or who made you think that?” Renly’s question makes Loras turn around slowly to look at Theon with an intensity that is uncharacteristic for him.  
“Do I need to punch someone?” Loras would. And he would make it hurt. Despite his soft looks and constantly painted nails he punches like a pro, the ongoing wars for the remote have taught Theon well. Also never fight with Margaery. Margaery fights dirty.  
“Look at you overprotective jerks, I can’t even whine in peace without starting a serious conversation,” Theon whines.  
“We love you, so do I need to punch someone?” Loras asks again.  
“No! Get out you two.” He throws a pillow, missing by a really wide margin.  
On another note, completely unrelated of course: Theon feels warm and loved. 

The absolute worst part of it all is the mouth breathing. He hates it. Eating becomes the most unpleasant and disgusting activity of his day, and he's not even feeling nauseous.

“Theon, you have a visitor,” Margaery sing songs. Theon groans. Loudly. With feeling.  
“Tell them to fuck off. I'm dying and I would like to do that in peace,” he says, but he is on his side, because that's the only way to lie and breathe simultaneously, facing away from the door, so she might not hear him. Yeah, that's also a thing now, he can only mock whisper. It's horrible and shitty.  
“I can leave, if you want.” And that is not Margaery, she wouldn't leave him to die in peace, but the most telling is that it is a male voice. Theon sits up.  
“I'm semi sure I called you,” he says for the simple reason that it is Robb standing in Theon's cold incubation chamber.  
“You did,” Robb says scratching his neck awkwardly. “But I wanted to see how you are.”  
“Shitty. Everyone is being a dick and I resent that.”  
“Aw, poor baby.” Robb isn't being sarcastic, that's the worst part, he just looks pained on Theon's behalf. He can't die from Robb's general Robbness and the cold. He's not that great of a multitasker.  
“I made soup.” Robb sits down on his bed, which is a contamination waiting to happen, and pushes a warm bowl into his hands.  
“Is that real chicken?” Theon asks and it's a fair question, hear me out, he has already dealt with fake tomato and pretentious liar chicken today, okay? They have really pretty pictures of noodles on the box, but the content is sad and the size of his nail. Like, the pinky nail. Also there's only about three depressing noodles sadly swimming around in that stuff.  
“Yes, it's real chicken,” Robb says, his lips twitching with amusement. “I made it myself.”  
Again, Theon might cry, he actually sniffles, though that is probably the fault of the cold and not Rob's everything. Probably.  
“You have no idea what I've been through today.” He tries to be dramatic, but it's really hard when you sound like a 80 year old who has been smoking since he was twelve. “You're my personal hero.”  
“Well, I'm here to please,” Robb says. His smile is really pretty. Actually his everything is really pretty. He takes a little pill bottle out of his pocket and lets two of them fall into his open hand.  
“Are those antibiotics?” Theon asks sceptic. “Because I might be sick and hoarse, but I am not above holding a speech about antibiotics and their non-existent effects on viruses. Which the common cold is.”  
Robb snorts. That's a first. Usually being prissy gets him different reactions. Mostly elbows in his side, which are probably permanently bruised by now, thank you Loras.  
“No, they're for your headache,” Robb answers.  
“Oh. That’s nice. You’re nice.”  
Robb is outright grinning now. He’s glowing. Like some kind of permanently happy firefly. Shit, abort, he’s too cute. 

Theon is having a really great time sleeping, when Loras bursts into his room like a startled pigeon, effortlessly wakes Theon and also nearly gives him a heart attack.  
“Who is attacking us?” Theon asks startled.  
“What?” Loras aks confused. Then he's laughing. “No one. This is the twenty first century, what the hell did you dream?”  
Theon just stares.  
“Anyway, important question, do you have a problem with dogs?”  
“Why the hell do you wake me,” Theon glances at his clock, “at six o'clock in the morning, on my free day mind you, to ask me if I have a problem with dogs?”  
“Surprise.” Loras is grinning and wiggling his eyebrows.  
“Please tell me you didn't buy me a dog,” Theon says. It's one of his actual fears. He is not saying this for banter. Loras might do it.  
“Maaaaaybe.”  
Silence. Crickets chirping. Loras is still grinning.  
“So, do you have a problem with dogs?”  
“Oh my fucking god, no I don't.”  
Theon has no idea if Loras bought him a dog or not. No one is telling him why Loras asked and all of them are smirking. It's driving him crazy. 

Update: It's sunday, it's warm and sunny, not a cloud in the sky and most importantly Loras did not buy him a dog. Which is great because Theon has no control over his life, how is he supposed to take care of a living breathing creature, but it's also sad because dog, or rather no dog. No other arguments needed.  
Apparently, and Theon is still pissed no one told him, they have a garden. Granted, it's a shared garden with the building beside the Golden Rose, but garden! And Olenna has monthly get togethers with the neighbours and family friends in said garden. Family friends include the Starks, yay Robb, and Olenna's friend, who Theon can finally meet, double yay, named Varys. And it's great. The two of them together are the most amazing thing Theon has ever witnessed. It's a sass party. Except in convoluted round about ways and complicated metaphors. They insult Varys' co-worker for thirty minutes straight and it's all in sentences that sound like they're complimenting him. Theon needs tips, scratch that, Theon needs lessons.  
Neighbours include Jaime and Brienne, which are the names of the police couple, Jaime's sister, who looks like she wants to be anywhere else but here, and Robb's cousin's aunt cousin whatever the fuck, which is even more complicated than the a friend of a friend situation. Family, am I right?  
But the best thing, the best fucking thing, about it all are the dogs. Everyone seems to own one and it's wild. It's fucking amazing.  
There's the Stark dogs, they're massive and fluffy and Theon is in love with all five of them. Grey Wind likes him too, at least that's what Theon gathers from the massive fur ball curling up around him and just laying there being pet, which is great because otherwise whatever relationship he and Robb are trying to build would probably not work out. A dog not liking the significant other is a deal breaker. At least it would be for Theon if he had a dog. He can't imagine it's much different for Robb. Shaggydog and Nymeria endured five minutes of Theon's doting before they ran off to play. Summer also had his quota of butt scratches fulfilled before he ran back to his human, being a good service dog. Lady doesn't like to be pet, apparently Sansa's ex was a massive dick, so she's still touch shy, but she came to greet him and licked his hand, so Theon counts it as a win. The only Stark dog he hasn't met yet is Ghost, but that's because he follows his human everywhere and said human is currently sucking face with his girlfriend, so Theon is not going over there right now. Or ever. Too much spit.  
Robb's cousin's aunt cousin whatever the fuck, who has a name stolen right out of some fantasy novel, I mean who names their daughter Daenerys? He so understands why she goes by Danny. I digress. Danny has three borzoi dogs. They look kinda funny, they have really long faces, but they're growing on Theon. The three of them also have names stolen right out of some fantasy novel and are white (“It's cream, Theon, there's a difference.”), red brown (“Fawn, Theon, you're impossible.”) and black respectively. Also they're pedigree dogs and Danny takes their coloration very seriously. A little too seriously but to each their own. It's still white to Theon but meh. More importantly, like way more importantly, they look really regal and stuff, but they love pets and Theon loves petting them so the world is good.  
Then there is Podrick who is the only German Shepherd for Theon, the best German Shepherd. He's still young and gangly, but he's down for pets all the time. He also carries around a soft red ball and he isn't letting go of it. It's the cutest thing ever. The conflicted look he gives Brienne when she offers him treats is the funniest thing.  
And last but not least there is Spider, who despite his name is the fluffiest cutest little shit Theon has ever seen. He is Varys' pomeranian and he sheds everywhere on Theon, but the sacrifice is worth it. Footnote: When Theon asked Varys about the dog's name his words were:  
“This little one is Spider. However he barks so much and picks fights with clearly bigger dogs sometimes I wonder if I should have called him Little Finger instead.” Seems like a horrible name for a dog. Olenna cackles and Theon doesn't get the joke.  
But yeah, dogs everywhere. It's lit. 

“Are you still alive down there?” Robb asks with a twinkle in his eyes.  
“Nope. I'm in heaven” Theon is buried beneath all the fluff and Spider is attacking his forehead with his little wet tongue. Life is good.  
“I see I have competition.”  
“Don't worry, you come slightly before Drogon right under Grey Wind, Spider and Podrick.”  
“Good to know.”  
“Don't be jealous,” Theon teases. “Grey Wind is the best, Spider is the fluffiest and Podrick is a puppy, I can't not love them.”  
“Oh, I'm not jealous.” Robb leans down, closer to Theon, a teasing smile on his lips and ohholyfuckhiseyesaresofuckingblueohmygod.  
“Holy shit you have really pretty eyes,” Theon blurts, which: Nice. But they are. Sky blue, greyish around the pupil with a dark blue ring around the edge. Robb's never been so close, so Theon hadn't noticed. He wants cry. Again. People shouldn't be this beautiful, okay? It should be illegal. Also Robb is blushing and it makes his eyes even brighter. Fucking unfair is what it is.  
“Why thank you,” Robb breathes. He's even closer now, like 'shit if I even twitch we might kiss, I'm not prepared for this' close. “You have really pretty eyes too.”  
So...  
Theon isn't breathing, just thought you might want to know.  
“Oh my god, just kiss,” Margaery shouts. Now everyone is looking at them. Great. Thank you, Margaery. On one hand Theon doesn't want to, because underneath all his spite is soft fluff and then he's an even more spiteful person underneath, but on the other hand it's Robb and his lips look really inviting.  
“Fuck off,” is what Theon wants to say, but then there's a soft pressure on his lips. It's nice and chaste and all kinds of romantic. If you ignore the dog fur everywhere and that literally everyone is watching them. On that note, there are five catcallers, so Theon is planning five different murders. As soon as they are done kissing. 

Theon is sitting by Olenna and Varys, watching the masters at work. It's fascinating. Loras and Renly are being disgusting vaguely to his right, he's not looking over there. Still Bitter.  
Theon is peacefully sitting there, when Cersei strides over, looking down at him like he personally offended her flower garden. Now, they haven't talked as of yet, but Theon has been told things. The words cold hearted bitch are 80 percent of things. Cersei hates dogs but they love her. Which at least indicates that she isn't a cold hearted bitch and more of a medium warm hearted bitch. Also she still pets them, granted she looks like she would rather eat a bullet, but she's still doing it. Take away from that what you want.  
“You're going shopping with me tomorrow. You look atrocious,” she says. Such a lovely greeting, he should remember it for job interviews.  
“I have work tomorrow,” he argues. Olenna and Varys have stopped their conversation to listen to Theon's.  
“Loras is taking your shift tomorrow,” Olenna says with a smile because she's a traitor.  
“But Mémé,” Loras interjects. Yes! Go Loras! 10 out of 10 would not like to go shopping with the lioness.  
“Don't Mémé me, Theon needs a social live.” Damnit. But also what?  
“Excuse me?” Theon says indignant.  
“You're excused,” Olenna answers dryly.  
“While that sweater looks fine, maybe something else would surely fit you better,” Varys says then. And okay maybe sweaters weren't his style pre-he-who-shall-remain-unmentioned, but green looks good on him, fuck you.  
“Good. We meet outside 8 o'clock sharp,” Cersei says and strides away just as swiftly as she came. 

Cersei Lannister is the epitome of the sentence 'the female mind is a mysterious oasis'. Here's what Theon knows: Cersei is a convinced follower of the single life, because she is above putting up with men for longer than a night, for most barely a conversation. She has a lovely smile, but it is reserved only for her brother and no one else. Brienne and Cersei hate each other but Jaime loves them both so they are somewhat civil. There is only one situation where the two of them work together and it's as scary and it is breathtaking. If anyone makes fun of or talks bad about Jaime's prosthetic that person is destroyed. Theon is convinced the two women could take over the world if they ever became friends. It's a terrifying thought. Cersei has complimented Brienne exactly once, when some asshole said 'who ever likes a woman like you must be a blind idiot'. According to sources Cersei went ballistic. She also said that Brienne is strong, independent and beautiful so she should be proud. This incident is not talked about because Cersei is scary.  
Theon follows Cersei through the boutique, she isn't much of a talker, not that he would know what to talk about. She wrinkles her nose at his sweater. Again. He has stopped counting at twenty, they should be around the sixties by now. She takes a pair of jeans from a pile and holds it up to muster it. It's a pair of black skinny jeans. They look tight. It's also definitely more his pre-stuff style. She throws them over Theon's arm. She's been doing that all day. And this is the first article for him, at least he doubts she would wear something like that. Who knew dresses could be so heavy?  
She picks five jeans for him, all from different piles, but they all look the same to him. Very tight, as in very tight, and black. Except two of them are ripped. When he says as much she frowns down at him. She does this a lot. Cersei generally has this air around her that everyone is beneath her and they need to be reminded of that.  
“Don't be stupid,” she says and goes into painful detail as to why they are different. They still look the same to Theon, though now he knows better than to even dare hint at it.  
Their shopping trip includes three hoodies, one of them sleeveless, some very nice shirts and a leather jacket Theon definitely can't afford. Also five hundred dresses. Cersei is a spender and she has the money to back it up.  
She ushers him into the dressing room to try everything on. Every article must be approved by her. Alone and in combinations. He has to twirl and shit. It takes hours.  
“The style is horrible. At least it looks somewhat okay on you,” she says and that's about the kindest thing she said to him all day. Theon takes it. She puts three shirts on the no pile and then, with the last teeny little tidbit of kindness left in her heart, she allows him to sort out what he doesn't like, even though she likes, okays?, it.  
He likes all of it, but his bank account does not, so he sorts out two more shirts, one of the not ripped jeans and the leather jacket. He loves it, it looks fucking amazing on him, but money.  
Cersei tries on her dresses next. She doesn't ask Theon's opinion per say, but after she is done scrutinizing herself in the mirror, she turns to Theon. The first four dresses stay uncommented, he has no idea what the five second break between mirror and pulling the curtain is for. At five he gets the message. No one ever claimed Theon knows how shopping works.  
“I look like a slut,” Cersei says as she observes herself in the mirror. She turns to Theon, because Theon gets to voice his opinion even if she doesn't like the dress, which is damn nice actually. Not that he has any kind of delusions that he has any say in what she buys. And okay, the décolleté is pretty low, could be classified as revealing, but the wine red colour looks great on her. Also the fabric shimmers. Shimmers! It's a pretty dress.  
“Give me two seconds,” he says. She raises a perfectly formed eyebrow, they probably grow all perfect like that, but she doesn't go back into the cabin. Theon hurries back to the jewelry. He saw a teardrop necklace in the same colour earlier. Yup. There it is. He returns with his findings.  
“This might help? To focus the eyes. Looks less slutty and more elegant refined lady,” he says. She considers him. She has a thoughtful look in her eyes. Damn. She did actually listen to the stuff he said about the dresses before. This day is just full of revelations, isn't it?  
“Fine. Put it one me,” she says sharply. Wow. He's allowed to touch her now. What a day. He takes the necklace out of the plastic package, which is probably highly illegal. Theon is more afraid of Cersei than consequences. Scratch that, Cersei is consequences. Her hair is extremely soft. Golden clouds. What the fuck? Girls are unfair. Very aesthetically pleasing, and his dick might not care, but his eyes are very on board.  
Endresult: She does buy the dress and the necklace. There's also two other dresses she insulted and Theon complimented.  
Verdict: Cersei is distinct and fussy underneath that she's soft and considerate. He likes her, I mean, he wouldn't go out to drink coffee with her, but he would go shopping with her again. 

Correction: Theon would go out to drink coffee with her. Well ice cream. She's craving it and Theon is not the one to tell her no. He is a big fan of breathing. They walk out of the ice cream parlor, Theon is carrying the bags, see above mentioned reason. The thing is, he already had his breakdowns about Ramsay, what he never not once thought about, well, Ramsay had friends. Or whatever constitutes as friends for Ramsay's kind of crazy. So what Theon does not expect is to almost run into Damon.  
“Well, if it isn't Ramsay's little bitch,” Damon says, yellow teeth bared in a grin. “Damon.”  
“Oh, so the pet does remember me.”  
Theon's hand is trembling, the only thing keeping him from losing the bags is Cersei's fury. Apropos Cersei.  
“You're in my sun,” she says while looking at her nails. They are perfectly manicured of course. Honestly, Theon wouldn't look at Damon either.  
“This doesn't concern you, bitch,” Damon says and uhhh, bad choice. Cersei lets her hand fall and looks at Damon sharply, inferno in her eyes mixed with a healthy dose of pain to come. Theon takes a step back. Damon notices this, interprets it as fear of him, and grins. Cersei sees that and interprets it as smug satisfaction for insulting her. Double uhhh.  
Cersei is taller than Theon, so she is always looking down at him, but Damon is huge compared to her petite form (yes, Theon is smoll, leave him be), yet even looking up at him physically it's still like she's looking down at him. Cersei has ways to make you feel worthless no matter what the situation is. Again, Theon needs lessons.  
“I'm Cersei Lannister and you will not compare me to a lowly dog,” she says. Theon sees the punch coming before Damon does. It connects and it connects well. He can feel that nose break from here. Then she goes for the Solar plexus and Damon is out. Ice cold that woman. Also, scary.  
No one is looking at them, despite the commotion that just occured. It's not like the street is empty. Damon might not have recognised her, but the passants clearly do. Cersei has money and power, people remember that. A Lannister always does as they damn well please.  
“Remember, ladies do not start fights but they can finish them,” Cersei says. Did she just? She quoted Aristocats at him. This is the best day ever. He's so not gonna draw attention to that though.  
“He bleed on my hand,” she says with disgust in her voice and on her face.  
“How inconsiderate of him,” Theon says as he hands her a pack of tissues.  
“Awfully so,” she continues. 

As aforementioned Theon carries the bags, but when they're home it is Cersei who divides their clothes between the bags. This is relevant.  
“Welcome back,” Loras greets him. “How was your date in with the metaphorical lion?”  
“Surprisingly okay,” Theon answers.  
“No shit?”  
“Well, I'm not dead, am I?”  
“That's fair.” Loras tries to dust off his jeans. Keyword being tries.  
“Let me put my stuff in the washer and then I'll take over,” Theon says as he fumbles for his key to the backrooms.  
“Yes please, I still have a date to get to and I'm covered in flour,” Loras whines. “Shush, flour is sexy.”  
Theon cuts the price tags off the clothes, dutifully ignoring the numbers lest he starts crying, and haphazardly throws them in the washing machine. He pulls the last article of clothing from the bag and pauses. It's the leather jacket he sorted out. The one he didn't buy. Theon smiles. Cersei isn't really that bad, she just has a bad reputation. Like sharks. A very accurate comparison. 

Theon looks at himself in the mirror again. The leather jacket over his grey turtleneck sweater, he's not giving up on them no matter what Varys and Cersei say, they're too soft to throw away, and the ripped jeans look good. Yup, he can go out like that.  
“Hey Theon, ready to-” Robb turns around and stops.  
“I think you broke him, give him a moment,” Sansa says laughing.  
“I feel like going to the zoo is a waste of money,” Renly says dryly.  
“Yup, Robb is going to stare at Theon the whole time,” Loras adds grinning. 

They're having a triple date, also known as Sansa and Margaery have a date and everyone else was roped into joining despite varying degrees of protest. They are watching Star Wars Episode One in Margaery's living room and Theon can't distract himself from the movie by making out. His face is covered in dark red sludge that vaguely smells like cherry. The cherry is a lie, do not lick your lips. It has to dry before he can peel it off and that's not until later, so now he has to suffer through horrible animation. It's not that the movie is bad, but Theon is a child of the twenty first century.  
Also if Loras says 'But it's well done considering the technology at the time' Theon is going to terminate their friendship. Yes, Loras is a convinced fan of Episode One. 9 out of 10 Renlys have a boyfriend with horrible tastes. Call 12345678 to save a Renly. Don't be a dick.  
“I think it is time for the nail polish,” Margaery says and takes the small bottles from the living room table. She holds her hand out to present them. “Pick your fighter.”  
“I brought some too,” Sansa says and pulls even more bottles from her bag. Theon had no idea that many shades of blue and red even existed. He chooses black with glitter because he's a basic bitch. Ah, yes, his soul colour.  
“You're going to love this,” Sansa says with a grin. She's very good at painting nails, very precise and careful. Not a dot of colour where it's not supposed to be. He's subjected to UV light four times, fingers and thumb times two, before he is allowed to paint her nails. She chooses a nice red that goes well with her hair and eyes. Theon has never painted nails before but he has a steady hand so it's not a disaster, sure he fucks up her pinky since he has no understanding for how much paint should be on the brush, but that's nothing a little nail polish remover can't fix.  
Afterwards they drink copious amounts of coffee and trash talk glee. At least that was the plan, then they got really invested in the cheap drama. “We are never telling anyone,” Margaery says.  
“We should swear on something important,” Sansa says. The girls swear on each other. It's very sweet and stuff.  
“I swear on Robb's dog, because Grey Wind is the best dog,” Theon says. Robb nods very gravely.  
“Me too. I also swear on Grey Wind.”  
“I swear on Theon's inability to wrestle the remote from me,” Loras says. Then at last Renly:  
“I swear on Loras' butt.”  
There's serious nods and handshakes all around, then it's back to screaming at stupid teenagers on TV. Theon takes his coffee cup in his hands without drinking from it, his hands are cold and the cup is warm. His nails are slowly going from black to gold in a nice ombre effect.  
“Oh my god, Sansa, that's amazing,” he says.  
“Told you, you would love it,” she answers smiling. Nail polish that changes colour based on temperature! It's the best fucking thing! 

“Tell me if I hurt you,” Robb says. It would be sweet really, if he hadn’t said that sentence five times in the past fifteen minutes.  
“Robb, I’m not gonna break in half. If you don’t start doing something soon, I will walk out and cuddle your dog instead.”  
“With your dick out?”  
“You say that like you didn’t throw my boxers against the window for all the world to see. I can reach the windowsill from here. Don’t test me.” 

Robb watches captivated as Theon eats Schoko-Bons. There’s something about that mouth. It’s a very talented mouth.  
“Did you- Did you just put the empty paper back into the full bag,” he asks incredulous.  
“Yes.”  
“You know that-”  
“Yes.”  
Theon is very well aware that the bin is a meter behind him, thank you. But consider: Laziness. 

Loras is blocking the coffee machine. The new one Theon and Margaery have dubbed Marco after Sally tragically died. Marco is a good boy, still young and full of energy.  
“Move peasant, birthday boy coming through,” Theon says and pushes Loras away. He steals the first cup of fresh coffee for himself.  
“What?” Loras says. Margaery squeals from her place at the table.  
“Do you know how long I have waited for you to tell us when your birthday is?” She asks. “I've had a gift ready for months.”  
Theon pauses and looks back at their talks. He really didn't tell them his birthday. Damn.  
“Well I don't,” Loras says. he actually sounds bitter.  
“Scared Margaery will take your place as the favourite sibling?” Theon teases.  
“Always,” Loras answers like someone who has suffered.  
“Joke's on you, Margaery was always my favourite.”  
“Damn right,” she says.  
“Everytime,” Loras says. “Why do I even bother?”  
Olenna walks through the door, golden bow in her hand.  
“Mémé! It's Theon's birthday,” Margaery informs her dutifully.  
“I was wondering how long I would have to keep this around,” she says, puts the bow on Sally and presents her to Theon. “I know you love her, but she's taking up space, now she takes up your space.” And Theon knows anyone else would consider this a stupid gift, after all it's a broken coffee maker, but he really does love the little diva. Olenna knows and she didn't throw Sally out, she would have kept her around for months if Theon had had birthday later. He's really stupidly happy about that.  
“Why is everyone so loud?” Renly questions as he walks in. “Is Theon crying over the coffee machine again?”  
“Fuck you.”  
“Language,” Olenna says.  
“Fine, unfuck you,” Theon apologises.  
“It's Theon's birthday,” Margaery says. She's more excited than Theon. Like, way more excited. Renly throws Theon a look.  
“You're not getting anything from me because you are a horrible friend who doesn't tell me shit.”  
“That's fair,” Theon admits.  
“I need to call Sansa and Robb,” Margaery says.  
“You are really into this,” Theon says carefully. Margaery stares at him.  
“Two reasons: Poppy cheesecake and Black Forest cake.” Which is also fair. 

Olenna makes a sign for the door: 'Closed for personal reasons, please come back tomorrow.' She excuses herself to give the youngsters space, calls Varys to make time for their card games instead. They have the Golden Rose all to themselves, cake is eaten until everyone has a stomach ache. Sansa and Robb are there too. It's great.  
“Now gifts,” Margaery says. She goes behind the counter and brings back a very big something. “I wanted to wrap it, but the wrapping paper did not cooperate.”  
It's a plush twice the size of Theon's torso, a black squid. It's a little messy, she made it herself, and it's really soft with the right amount of squish.  
“It's a comfort plush,” she explains. “For your nightmares. I mean now you have Robb to cuddle you when these two idiots move out, but I still thought it was a good idea.”  
“It is. Thank you,” Theon says and hugs the plush. So soft and squishy.  
“Mine is kind of improvised,” Sansa says as she pushes a little purple bag over the table. “Since the party was on short notice.”  
He pulls five bottles of nail polish from the bag. Two of them have already been opened. It doesn't matter to Theon. It's the cool nail polish, the colour changing one. In different colours. Nice!  
“It's still perfect, thank you,” he says. Honestly he didn't expect any gifts but they still figured something out, that's really sweet. Robb nervously clears his throat.  
“This wasn't really meant as a gift. I've been planning to give it to you for a while, the moment just never seemed right,” he says. He gives Theon a small black box. Now, calm your tits, the box is twice the size of a ring box. Theon opens it. It's a necklace, black leather cord with a amber pendant, a nautilus. It's cute. Robb remembered his love for all things ocean. But there is another thing on the necklace, hanging beside the nautilus is a silver key.  
“It's my spare one, for my house. You've been over at my place so often, I thought it was time you got the key,” Robb says. His face is cherry coloured and he's stuttering. Theon throws himself at him, nearly toppling the chair, ups, and gives him all the kisses.  
“Way to make us feel horrible,” Loras jokes while Renly is nodding his head.  
“You're here, I think that's enough," Theon says.  
“Sap.” 

Loras is half on the couch and half on Theon.  
“So we are putting our stuff away, right, and I was whining about all the boxes, so he just- He said if there's no more boxes blocking everything, we can christen the apartment. I don't even know anymore. I love him so much, but Theon, he threatened me. With marathon sex.” Loras gestures so much with his hands, he could be on Harry Potter. He also almost stabs Theon’s eye out. Classic Loras.  
“You’re a pillow princess, how bad can it really be?” Theon deadpans. He’s still bitter and traumatised from that one time they ruined french for him.  
“Okay, first: I resent that. Second: Pot, kettle.”  
“You have no prove.”  
Three suffocation attempts later Theon is on his stomach, Loras on top of him, digging his elbow right into Theon’s soft vulnerable side.  
“I hate you,” he says.  
“Aw, I love you too,” Loras answers with a grin. 

“Loras, there’s a problem. I have a code red problem,” Theon says to the phone while he hugs his comfort plush closer.  
“Renly, move your ass over, Theon has a code red problem.” There’s shuffling on the other side of the phone and Theon waits until it’s quiet.  
“You’re on speaker,” Loras informs him.  
“Okay so, everything is going super well, the dates are amazing and everything. We’re sleeping in the same bed and you know how panicked I was about the nightmares, but he’s really good about it. But this morning I woke up with Robb snoring in my face, and I was like, damn, I love this boy. And I do, I really, really do. How the fuck do I deal with this?”  
“You have a date today, right?” Loras asks.  
“We always do,” Theon answers.  
“So you tell him today,” Renly says. “The longer you wait the more you work yourself up.”  
“But what if he doesn’t love me back?” Theon whispers.  
“You give him time,” Renly says.  
“He’s not going to break up because you love him,” Loras says.  
“Okay.”  
“You good now?” Loras asks.  
“Yeah, thank you,”Theon answers.  
“No problem,” Renly says.  


He puts his comfort plush on the other chair and looks at it.  
“Okay,” he says to himself. “It can’t be that hard, just gotta practice. Like riding a bike.”  
He takes a deep breath.  
“Robb, you’re amazing and I really, really love you.”  
The plush doesn't answer. Then there’s a weight on his head and arms being slung around his torso.  
“I really, really love you too.”  
“Oh my fucking god this was not the plan.”  
“Well, my plan was to say it first, so I guess we both have to suffer now.”  
“Just shut up and kiss me.”  
“Can do.” 

The group is sitting in Robb's living room, soon to be Robb and Theon's living room. They already brought all his stuff over. Sidenote: Loras does whine about boxes. A lot. Theon stole the good armchair and Sansa, who he stole it from, sat down on his lap with a huff. Margaery is driving over the last boxes.  
“Margaery is coming up the stairs right now,” Renly says after checking his phone. Loras nods.  
“Okay, so this is your moving out gift and your very late birthday gift. Renly and I threw our money together. We robed Robb into it too, since Grey Wind might have been a problem otherwise, but we did all the hard work,” Loras says.  
“And paid the sweet, sweet money,” Renly adds.  
“Is it still sweet money if we don't have it anymore?” Loras asks.  
“And paid the bitter, bitter money,” Rely says after a moment of consideration.  
“Anyway, here.” Loras hands Theon a piece of paper. Very official looking and everything. A closer look reveals it to be adoption papers. For a dog.  
“You fucking didn't,” Theon says with a laugh. Margaery entering the living room, blue leash in her hand, proves him otherwise. On the other end of the leash is a coltish young Siberian Husky. Her papers say her name is Hildegard but Theon is not doing that to her. That's fucking animal cruelty right there. Instead he names her after his sister overseas. Asha is an adorable Husky. A very good girl. Theon kneels before the dog and pets her.  
“We need a bigger bed,” he informs Robb.  
“You know not even Grey Wind is supposed to be on the bed.”  
“Yeah, and you are even worse at enforcing that rule than I am. I'm not even gonna try with Asha here, if you're going to ruin my parenting anyway. Hence bigger bed.” 

Everytime Theon imagined this would happen, he thought he would be scared out of his mind, and he is, but also not? His voice calling Theon's name makes Theon's hands tremble, but he's not alone, it's another triple date with the others and the dogs are with them too. What's Ramsay going to do?  
“If it isn't my little pet.” A smile teases Ramsay’s lips. “And it has a boy toy now.”  
Robb bristles and Loras has this look on his face he only gets, when he is one sentence away from punching a homophobic dick. Theon holds out a hand to stop them. This is not their fight. There's a little flame of confidence in Theon and even small flames can cause explosions.  
“Let me deal with him,” he says. “What do you want?”  
Ramsay's smile falls. He makes to take a step closer. Asha growls like she is three times her size. Ramsay stays.  
“Imagine my surprise when I return home to find my pet gone and the house sold,” he says, annoyance in his eyes.  
“I can imagine that, it paints quite the amusing picture, what I can't imagine is what you thought would happen, considering you left. Thanks for that by the way,” Theon says. “That I would pay for your bills?” The tight lipped expression on Theon's face is the one Olenna uses on particularly daft customers, when she can't outright tell them they're stupid.  
“I think,” Ramsay's tone is clipped, “that you should come home with me. I have a room waiting for you.”  
“That's very kind of you. You shouldn't have. I wouldn't want to be a bother. And as much as I love your hospitality, I don't think I can make time in my schedule for the foreseeable future,” Theon says all Varys' veiled fuck you behind politeness. He's not as good at it, but he gets the point across.  
Ramsay growls. He's angry and all Theon wants to do is cower before him and apologise, but he doesn't. Instead Theon smirks. It's not his smirk. No, Theon smirks with a teasing lilt to his lips and sarcasm in his eyes, a twinkling star. This is more like Jaime's smirk, more of a 'my wife can bench press you without breaking a sweat' and a 'I'm not afraid of fighting you, so what are ya gonna do about it' vibe. Sure, Theon doesn't have a wife but he has Robb and Robb has muscles. Damn fine muscles actually.  
Ramsay tries to grab him, but Asha snaps at his fingers, the threat clear.  
“You will not touch me,” Theon says. “Not now or ever again.”  
“I beg to differ,” Ramsay says.  
“Then beg.” And that? The raised eyebrow and 'you're worth less than a gum on my shoe' tone in his voice? That's all Cersei. Theon stands straight and proud, refusing to be seen as less than he is, the way Brienne does when someone is trying to belittle her for her looks.  
“Now if you will excuse me, I was enjoying my date.” The false sweetness is all Margaery, honeyed poison, but the courteous words are Sansa's. Theon turns around leaving Ramsay behind, confidence in his step, strutting like the world is his catwalk. That? Loras.  
“Maybe you should try to be less of a crazy bastard. Being that much of an asshole must be really tiring in the long run,” he says dryly, sarcastic. Renly. He throws Ramsay a last smile over his shoulder, no kindness and all teeth. Robb.  
Theon could never talk back at Ramsay, it goes against all the rules he has learned, but this is not the same for all of the wonderful people Theon has gotten to know. Theon is sick of being afraid. No, it's time to wash his hands of this pitiful creature. Behind him Loras, with the help of Asha, explains in great detail what's going to happen if Ramsay so much as breathes in Theon's direction ever again. Grey Wind pushes against his legs with his head and licks Theon's hands.  
“Are you okay?” Robb asks.  
“No, but I will be.” 

“I know we haven't talked in years, but I wanted to call you. I'm getting married and I thought maybe you would want to- Asha! Grey Wind! Down! Sorry, just our dogs.”  
“Of course I want to be there for your wedding, but Theon, did you seriously name your dog after me?”  
“Did you just hang up on your sister?” Robb asks. Theon looks at the phone with wide eyes then at Robb.  
“Oh my god, I am so dead.”  
“You realise you have to call her again with the date and other details?” 


End file.
